


i really really really really really really like you

by woodenduck



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Broken Bones, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5137580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodenduck/pseuds/woodenduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>and I want you. do you want me? do you want me too? - carly rae jepsen, 2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	i really really really really really really like you

“Stupid...bullshit…watch!” Sasha cries out in frustration, as she continues furiously pressing the buttons on the side. She had tried what felt like everything to get it to heal her broken arm, now, but no matter what she does, the watch only continues to display the current time.

“Ugh!” she groans, throwing her hands up in the air. The past several hours had been a whirlwind of emotions and excitement, but now that the chaos of dividing up the money and treasure from the Vault and transporting it back to Vaughn’s base has come to a close and things are finally settling down, Sasha finds herself much less able to ignore the excruciating pain in her arm.

“You would get me a regenerative device that heals me and then drops me fifteen feet back onto the god damn ground, wouldn’t you, Felix?” she grumbles, clutching the watch tightly in her uninjured hand, before banging it furiously against the desk, “Just - had to - let me down - one last time - huh? You old piece of --”

“Sasha, there you are, Fiona and I have been looking all over -- whoah, whoah, hey,” comes a voice from behind her, just before a cold metal hand gingerly grips her wrist, and Sasha whips her head around to see Rhys standing beside her. Her hand goes lax in surprise, and Rhys takes the opportunity to gently pry the watch from her fingers.

“How bout we not...break this thing that saved your life, probably,” he stammers, giving her the goofy sideways smile he’d given her so many times as he starts turning it over in his hands, “Just -- let me see if I can get this working.”

“You’re not going to,” she huffs, but she can’t help but smile, now, and finds herself lightly touching the spot he had touched with her other hand, “It’s gears and clockwork and stuff, not something you can do your hacky stuff to.”

“Hey, you are looking at a guy who built himself a mechanical arm from scratch. One-handed, I might add, ” he laughs as he takes a seat on the table in front of her, “I’ve picked up some new skills, girly. Plus, I totally built a twenty foot long Rube Goldberg machine that won the hell out of first place at the science fair in tenth grade, so I think I can handle a little...oh my God, this thing is weird, but I’m gonna figure it out, don’t you worry your...hmm.”

“Wow. Very faith-inspiring,” Sasha snickers, resting her chin in her hand and leaning against the table. She was finding it harder and harder to keep the grin off of her face, and fighting it was starting to make her cheeks hurt. She really had missed him, more painfully than she’d wanted to allow herself to feel.

“Shut up,” he giggles, glancing over at her with the corner of his mouth turned upwards before hunching over further to get a better look at the watch. She watches his face for several minutes, as his expression shifts from confusion to frustration, before he sets the watch emphatically down on the table and puts his hands in his lap.

“Ooookay,” Rhys chuckles, before hopping up from his spot on the table and clearing his throat, “So...you were totally right, however, another thing I have recently become very good at is applying first aid, so, I can at the very least splint your arm and put it in a sling and we can put some ice on it, but you will need to see a real doctor. Like, oh my god, please go to a real doctor, I can’t stress this enough, I have seen some of the weird shit you and your sister think is okay to do regarding severe injuries. There is no such thing as a ‘light stabbing,’ I don’t care what Fiona told you, and when you break bones you go to the doctor. Please go to a real doctor, Sasha. Please tell me you’re going to go to the doctor, Sasha. Like, tomorrow maybe. Sasha, you have to --”

“Okay!” Sasha interrupts, laughing, “I got it. Doctors are important. I’ll go to a doctor.” Rhys is visibly relieved, and lets out a heavy sigh before hopping up and running around the room in a frenzy. When he returns to the table, he’s carrying an armful of rolled up posters, a roll of tape, a pillowcase, and a pair of scissors, which he sets down on the table before plopping down gracelessly in a chair beside Sasha.

“Okay,” he says, before grabbing the pillowcase and cutting along the seam, “If I hurt you too bad, tell me, okay? Not that -- I mean, this probably won’t hurt much worse than it already does, I hope, but if it does --”

“Just do it, Rhys,” Sasha interrupts.

“Right,” he sighs, “Doing it. We’re doing it. Okay.”

As gentle and careful as Rhys’s touch is, it still stings a little when he moves her arm to set it in the rolled up papers, but Sasha keeps a stiff upper lip when his eyes flit to her face to monitor her reaction, if only so he won't fuss over her even more than he already was. He tapes the papers together and lays the pillowcase out under Sasha’s now splinted arm, and then, after hovering for a moment, moves closer to tie the splint behind her neck, and in the moments that Rhys spends fumbling with the knot his face comes close enough for Sasha to feel his breath on her face. Judging by the color of Rhys’s cheeks, Sasha guesses that his face is just as warm as hers, and for a moment Sasha is so sure that he’s finally going to kiss her that she begins to let her eyes fall closed. However, in that very moment, he eases back, and lets his hands rest on her shoulders, instead.

“There,” he says, patting her uncertainly, “Not too tight, right?”

“I...no,” Sasha flusters, biting her lip, “No, it feels fine, thanks.”

“Great,” Rhys sighs, “Now, just remember, you don’t wanna leave that on too long, so please, really, you really really have to --”

“See a real doctor,” Sasha exhales heavily, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, I got it. Hey...you should sign it. My cast thing, I mean.”

“You mean...your temporary sling?” Rhys asks dumbly, rubbing his neck, “That’s...gonna be kind of hard, it’s made of cloth, plus you’re...gonna have a real cast soon, right, and --”

Despite his floundering, Sasha had already hopped up and made her way across the room, and was now rummaging through a jar in search of a permanent marker. When she turns one up, she makes her way back over to Rhys and plops back down in her chair before dropping the marker in his lap.

“Eh, you can sign that one too, then," she says with a smile.

“O...kay,” he laughs, “Give me just a second.” His expression turns focused, and he bends over and begins slowly marking on the cloth of the pillow case. When he’s finished, he sets the marker down on the table, and Sasha looks down to see that he has messily scrawled out his name on the fabric.

“That’s it?” she teases, “Just Rhys, not even a get well note or a picture or anything? You are one boring cast-signer.”

“It’s not even a cast!” Rhys laughs, but pops the cap back off the marker again nevertheless, “But, fine, I’ll add a note, just...gimme a minute to think of something good.” He leans back over, his expression growing distant in concentration. Suddenly, Sasha sees a lightbulb go off in his head, and he wets his lips before he begins marking on her arm again. He goes very slowly, and by the time he leans back and puts the lid back on the pen his face is distinctly red.

“There,” he says, nodding shyly as Sasha looks at him with wide eyes. She turns them down slowly, and it takes a minute for her to make sense of the upside down writing.

“I...heart you?” she repeats out loud, and when she looks back at him his expression is almost pained.

“Oh..g-god,” he stutters, “See...you reading it out loud, now, makes me feel like this was a really bad way to --”

Sasha doesn’t waste a second. Before Rhys can even finish his thought, she’s closed the space between him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and mashing her lips against his in a long, closed-mouth kiss, before pulling away with a loud smacking sound and allowing all the fondness she’d been holding back to shine through in the unrestrained smile she gives him.

Rhys stares back at her, bug eyed and dumfounded, and makes several attempts to speak that come out as squeaks before he remembers how to form words.

“So. That’s an…’I like you too,’ right?” he says very slowly, his voice cracking.

“Yes, you dope,” Sasha blurts out, still cupping his face in her hand “I like you very much, you’re very sweet, I missed you a lot much and I’m very glad you’re not dead. I ‘heart’ you too.”

“Oh. Cool,” Rhys guffaws dumbly, ghosting his hands over her before letting them settle on her forearms, “Glad to hear it, same...goes to you, obviously. Can we...kiss again with less...teeth knocking against each other this time?”

“Yeah,” she nods breathlessly, “Yes, absolutely.”

With that, she pulls him back in again, and they kiss properly this time, all the worry and stress of the day temporarily melting away as they hold each other in the dark.


End file.
